
ClassBS J 5 3 7_ . 
Book _^ SJ Si.. 
CopyrightN^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Sisters of Reparatrice 



SISTERS 
OF REPARATRICE 



= 3 



By y 
LUCIA GRAY SWETT 



^ ^ 3 






BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD 
1902 



THF LiBFfAf^Y OF 

OCT. 14 1902 



Copyrip,hl, 1902, 
By I^ucia Gray Swett. 



A/l rights reserved. 

SISTERS OF REPARATRICE. 



Published , September, iqo2. 






IV 



ilocKfofll anir Cburrl&iU f «s8 

ROSTON 



Contents 



:^ 



PAGE 



Sisters of Reparatrice 7 

The Old Brocade 18 

The Two Songs 23 

The Exeter Ehiis ........ 26 

A Tyrolean Song 29 

The Girl of Other Days 31 

A Regret 34 

Like Bright Lamps 35 

Easter 37 

To E. D. C 38 

To Francesca 39 

To Marguerite 40 

Our Cups of Tea 41 



She was veiy famous in Italy, and for- 
merly her singing attracted great crowds to 
the chapel of the convent, but this was not 
in accordance with the views of the Marquis 
of Reggio, the late Archbishop of Genoa, 
and by him she was forbidden to sing, 
and Donadio, obeying his orders, sings no 
more. 



8 



s 



Sisters of Reparatrice 
WEET those psalms we heard them 



smgmg 
In that far land long ago; 
And they in my mem'ry linger 
With an echo clear and low. 

What the words were, that I know not, 
But they told of rest and peace ; 
And your Sisters sang like angels, 
Order of Reparatrice. 

Off the Via Assarotti, 
In the narrow, winding street, 
Stands the convent, with its chapel ; 
There the past and present meet. 

9 



In the midst of all the wonders 
Of that city grand and old, 
Now as ever, " La Superba," 
Whilst its palaces can hold 

Safe from time their priceless treasures 
Where Art reigns her works among. 
And receives unceasins: homasfe 
From the never-endino^ throno^. 

Artists, students, pleasure-seekers. 
Tourists wand'ring book in hand. 
Come to marvel at her beauty. 
Drawn to her from ev'ry land. 

Leaving Via Garibaldi, 
With its palaces and shade, 
Soon a flood of sunshine meets us. 
And the strains of music played 

lO 



In the Park of Aquasola. 
Up the hill, as we draw near, 
Comes the sound of children's laughter 
Ringing merrily and clear. 

There the groups of Balie resting, 
Like great beds of tulips gleam ; 
Soldiers idle, peasants linger, 
Life seems all one happy dream. 

But down leading to the harbor 
Where the great ships, resting, wait, 
Ever coming, ever going. 
With their passengers and freight, 

Through the dark and crowded byways 
The same story we read o'er. 
Drawn in lines of want and trouble 
In the faces of the poor ', 

II 



See the bands of men and women 
Passing on with weary tread, 
Trusting in the New World's plenty 
To find work and homes and bread. 

But these things the Sisters heed not, 
This vain pride and fleeting joy ; 
Have they not renounced forever, 
Buried deep each earthly toy ? 

What to them are sordid worries ? 
They have laid them all to rest, 
With life's labor but half ended 
Ere the sun has reached the west. 

Often would I watch one sitting 

In her peaceful, quiet nook. 

With her calm face pale and thoughtful. 

Bending o'er some pious book. 

12 



Once she lifted it, half smiling, 
And she looked so young and fair 
That I wondered with vague pity 
What strange fate had called her there. 

Had death robbed her of her dear ones ? 
Had she lost a lover true ? 
What sad secrets were there hidden 
Underneath that veil of blue ? 

Then perchance she'd cease from reading, 
Close awhile the saintly page, 
Come a moment on the terrace. 
Like a bird from out its cage, 



Pause an instant in the sunlight. 
Were there ever nuns so gay ! — 
Of this world they'd kept a little 
Just to brighten up their way. 

13 



Snowy robe with band of azure 
'Neath which peeped her shoes of white, 
Whilst o'er all the blue veil floated, 
Of some texture soft and light. 

And from out that cloud celestial, 
As though gazing from the skies, 
Once I saw her looking toward me 
With her wondrous Southern e^-es. 

She might leave all worldly follies. 
Pomps and vanities forget. 
But her eyes had not consented 
And their splendor lingered yet. 

Early on those autumn mornings, 
Almost at the break of day, 
From the convent rose the anthems 
Floating o'er the narrow way. 



One among the many voices, 
Sweeter, higher yet would soar, 
And we said, " 'Tis Donadio; 
Hark, she sings as ne'er before." 

Yes, it was the Donadio. 

Often had we heard her name, 

How she'd turned from many a triumph, 

Left applause, success, and fame. 

All the glamor of the foot-lights. 
Dazzling stage and brilliant halls, 
For the shadow and the silence 
Of the sombre convent walls. 

Did the vision try to lure her. 
Make her life seem hard and cold ? 
Or could no regret assail her 
As her beads she softly told ? 

15 



Ere the angel choir claimed it 
She her voice to heaven gave, 
And no soul too far could wander 
For that voice to win and save. 

Are those sacred notes beginning, 
Does the organ softly swell ? 
Is the gentle nun yet dwelling 
In her lonely little cell, 

With the endless reparation 
Of her holy order still, 
Ever reading, singing, pra3ang, 
In the convent on the hill ? 

When I look out o'er the city. 
Hear its rush and roar and strife. 
See the crowds in one wild hurry 
As though all too short were life, 
i6 



Then I close my eyes and listen, 
While all care and trouble cease 
As again I hear your voices, 
Sisters of Reparatrice. 



17 



The Old Brocade 

[Worn at the ball which was given in Salem for General Washington 
in J7S9. The old brocade is now in the Essex Institute,] 

^^HAKE out its every fold, 

^^ For a story each may hold, 

That we can faintly guess, but never know, 

And tlieir rustle is a chime 

Of that far-off goodly time. 

The valor and the grace of long ago. 

There's a softness in its hue. 
That belono's to nothins: new, 
A sad and dreamy perfume of the past^ 
From each sunset that has fled. 
All the roses bloomed and shed, 
Since Grandmamma so proudly wore it last. 

18 



At the ball in Salem town, 

When its beauty and renown 

Were gathered, the great Washington to 

meet ; 
Many cheeks and eyes grew bright. 
For its fair dames held that night 
The hero's stately homage at their feet. 

If could vanish many a year 

And Great-Grandmother were here, 

Could we watch her at the ball come and go. 

In this gown of pink brocade 

That could rival in its shade 

The flowers in the wax-lights' magic glow. 

Her dark eyes and handsome face 

With each soft curl in its place, 

The huge fan in the dainty mitted hand ; 

19 



I can seem to see them now. 

Ah, the General's splendid bow ! 

And her courtesy was ev'ry bit as grand. 

There were courtly speeches fine, 

Toasts were drunk in sparkling wine, 

And happily the moments onward sped. 

Reels and contra-dances gay 

Made the hours glide away, 

And then a stately minuet they'd tread. 

Those were days when one must learn 

Well a compliment to turn. 

But Great-Grandmother knew them all, I 

ween ; 
To the wondrous things were said 
She would smile and nod her head 
And never lose her dignity serene. 

20 



Yet I think of words more dear 
She could never know nor hear, 
Whose music is forever sv/eet and new ; 
And from out the long past years, 
Faint and far, through mists of tears, 
Come Great-Grandfather's simple words 
and true : 



She had been his winter's sun, 

Since their journey had begun. 

With her he'd known not one unhappy 

day; 
She had been his summer's shade. 
And when she to rest was laid 
The gladness from the earth had passed 

away. 



21 



And when finished Is life's task 

What better would one ask ? 

For after all; what sweeter words could be, 

Than that one we love and know, 

Should we be the first to go, 

Might say the very same of 3^ou or me ? 



22 



The Two Songs 

T SAID I will never sing again, 
^ My toil and labor have been in vain ; 
Should I strive without one thought of rest 
Yet I could not hope to reach the best, 

And I know that then my voice would be 

In the great, grand chain of harmony 

A silver thread which would ne'er be 

missed, 
To which the world could not care to list. 

But a little child climbed on my knee 
And said, " Will you sing a song to me ? 
A song of the sea and lighthouse gray 
Where the children lived who used to play 

23 



" With castles they built of sand and shells, 
Who heard in the night the magic bells 3 
Of the fairy with the jewelled boat 
Who took them over the waves to float 

" To that far isle with birds and flowers, 
Like none we see in this world of ours ; 
I beg you to sing it all to me." 
And so I sang, while he laughed v/ith glee. 

'^^ Why should I keep on singing," I said, 
" When the happy hours are past and fled. 
Those hours whose glor}^ we sought to hold, 
Which sped away on their wings of gold. 

"And now from that time so bright and glad 
There comes but an echo faint and sad, 
And naught is left of each joyous day 
Save the sound of music far away." 

24 



But an old man said, " Long, long ago 
I heard a song which perchance you know; 
It ^>-ave one courage and strength and cheer, 
It made one feel that heaven was near. 

" If steep and hard the way up the hill, 
The sunset view would be fairer still, 
And every star that shone above 
Was an angel's face aglow with love. 

" And brightest among the shining host 
Were those who on earth had suffered 

most ; 
Ah, only to hear it all once more ! " 
And I sanj^ the song he loved of yore. 



2S 




The Exeter Elms 

'E stretch our sheltering branches, 
Green-leaved or white with snow, 
And guard the old town's pleasant streets 
Where students come and go. 

Yes, we can watch them at their games, 
Can hear their voices ring, 
Till the whole world seems full of joy. 
And life glad, endless Spring. 

Yet when the happy day is done 
Perchance some lad may come, 
•Who, wandering in the twilight. 
Will dream of friends and home. 

26 



And in the moonlight oft we hear 
The songs and laughter gay 
From a band of 3^ouths and maidens 
Who wend their merry way. 

Still the new boyish faces pass — 
We greet them year by year, 
And still must say once more farewell, 
To part with hope and fear. 

For we know each one's ambition, 
His purpose, and his aim, 
And many a peril's hidden 
In paths that lead to fame. 

But sometimes on the winter wind 

Or summer breezes light 

Are borne the names of those who've won, 

Who've fought a goodly fight. 

27 



For they fought with faith and courage, 
Nor laid their weapons down, 
But struggled onward ever 
To gain the laurel crown. 

We can tell each one who's fallen, 
Each one who's reached the gfoal. 
And often on a summers nio-ht 
We softly call the roll. 

But from many comes no answer, 
To break the silence deep; 
They rest from all their labors here, 
Their watch no longer keep. 



28 



A Tyrolean Song 

T WROTE a little love-song 
-*- Upon a Summer's day, 
And set it to a glad air 
With a rhythm bright and gay. 
There was not a thought of sorrow, 
No sad note in its tune, 
For we sang it in the Tyrol, 
One joyous day in June. 



But soon the blue sky clouded, 
M}^ love's eyes lost their light, 
The wind our song enfolded 
And bore far out of sight ; 
29 



Long we sought for it together, 
But hunted all in vain, 
Then I said, ^^ What does it matter! 
I'll write it o'er again." 

And sometimes in the twilight, 
When I am all alone. 
The melody I'm sure of, 
But yet the words are gone; 
And if I think I've found the words 
Then will the time go wrong ; 
'Tis never quite the same again. 
My happy little song. 



30 



The Girl of Other Days 

'^ I "HEY say she was a bit too shy — 

•^ Too quiet were her ways, 
And yet I miss, I scarce know why, 
The girl of other days. 

The courtesy and gentle thought 
For all, a gracious care, 
That ever sunshine with them broug^ht 
And made life's dark days fair. 

Her faith was ever clear and strong, 
Nor courage did she lack, 
But right was right, and wrong was wrong, 
She knew no middle track. 

31 



No Puritan from out the past, 
Whose conscience never slept, 
E'er held ideas more firm and fast 
How Sunday should be kept. 

How often I have watched her stand 
Upon a Sabbath morn, 
Her hymn-book in her little hand, 
Her pretty gown of lawn. 

The neatly folded India shawl, 
The bonnet edged with lace, — 
A something sacred over all 
Reflected from her face ! 

And never mind if long or dull 
The sermon chanced to be, 
That calm, sweet face v/as ever full 
Of eloquence to me. 
32 



She held aloft the glowing light 

Of purity and love, 

A beacon through earth's darkest night, 

A guide to heaven above. 

And this. is v^hy, all-loyal yet, 
My heart her tribute pays, 
And w^hy I never can forget 
The girl of other days. 



33 



A Regret 

^ "X JYj each and all have some regret, 

^ ^ Some loving look that meets us yet, 
The clasp of little fingers, 
Dark eyes that are forever bright, 
And in whose depths the same soft light 
For us still fondly lingers. 

The sunny smile that ne'er grows cold, 

Fair hair that does not lose its gold, 

For time can change it never; 

And in my heart I do believe 

The rose she wore that summer eve 

Is fresh and sweet as ever. 



34 



Like Bright Lamps 

T IKE bright lamps forever burning, 
■'-^ Whose blest light can never wane, 
Shining clearly, shining softly, 
Through the darkest nights of pain; 

Like loved flowers we have gathered 
When the way seemed rough and hard, 
Never fading, ever fragrant. 
That the leaves of mem'ry guard; 

Are the kindly deeds that failed not 
When our courage all had fled, 
And the loving words that met us 
When our very faith seemed dead. 

35 



Words of love with cheer and comfort, 
Guiding all the wa}^ along, 
Growing ever sweeter, clearer, 
Till our hearts repeat the song. 

^^ Love on, trust on," they are chiming, 
"Trust on, love on," still they say, 
Echoes from that land of promise, 
Where all tears are wiped away. 



36 



Easter 

JOYOUS children with glad voices, 
As they carols sing to-day, 
Seem to hear the angels' anthem, 
Almost see the golden way. 

But for souls with sorrow laden 
There's a song no glad heart hears, 
Easter's blest, most wondrous glory 
Shines for eyes that look through tears. 



37 



To E. D. C. 

T IGHT of a noble mind that ever 

-^ — ' Shines clear and strong across life's 

sea, 
Who shall tell how many an endeavor 
Was guided by some thought of thee, 

To help the suffering and weary. 
To lift the fallen and oppressed, 
And bring to heavy hearts and dreary 
Glad rays of courage bright and blest ! 



38 



To Francesca 

PEACE and joy, beloved Francesca, 
Ev'ry mercy crown this da3\ 
Thy own heart reflect the sunshine 
Shed about thee on thy way. 

And as thou art nobly using 
Those great gifts bestowed on thee, 
Gladdening this world of sorrow, 
Heaven grows more fair to seCo 

For the angels paint in glory 
Pictures, that the saints above 
May know all th}^ deeds of kindness 
And thy patient works of love. 

39 



To Marguerite 

WHEN I look across the blue sea 
Where the clouds and ocean meet, 
There's one song the waves sing to me, 
Chanting ever, Marguerite, 

When the wintry blast is crying, 
Or the summer wind is sweet. 
Loudly calling, softly sighing, 
Still 'tis ever. Marguerite, 



40 




Our Cups of Tea 

Y clear, I think of days to come 
— ^J-When we will have the sweetest 

home. 
We'll dress in gowns of silv'ry gray, 
With knots of ribbon, oh, so gay ! 
Of pink and blue, in caps of lace, 
On curls that nod about each face, 
Our muslin kerchiefs wondrous fine. 
With pins of pearls in quaint design^ 
And bright old ladies we will be, 
And gossip o'er our cups of tea. 

Just bits of news and pleasant things — 
How we've heard rustle Cupid's wings, 

41 



About the new ring Marjie wore, 
And will the rector wed once more ? 
To what a beauty Helen's grown, 
And how Jack wants her for his own • 
And that the stork will by and by 
In at our neighbor's window fly, 
And we the christening must see, 
All this to season up our tea. 

A work of art each cup and plate 
Of rarest Sevres of ancient date, 
The snowy biscuits piled in mounds. 
And spicy pound-cakes, hearts, and rounds, 
With fragrant tea and richest cream, 
They'll say each cup is just a dream. 
There'll be good cheer and welcome glad, 
And none can long feel tired or sad. 
For care will fade and trouble flee. 
As hearts grow merry o'er their tea. 

42 



And we must have a garden too, 
With cherries man}^, quinces few, 
Old-fashioned flowers bright and fair, 
And roses ! roses ev'rywhere. 
The best of all, our loved white rose, 
An arbor where sweetbrier grows. 
There often on a summer's day 
Our little maid will bring the tray. 
Then ev'ry bird will sing for glee 
And make us happy at our tea. 

In winter, by the fire alone, 

We'll talk of all the friends who're gone : 

The dear Italian friend we knew, 

So sympathetic, fond, and true. 

With genial smile and kindly eyes, 

Clear as the heaven 'neath which she lies. 

Far, far from all this land of snow. 

I wonder will she ever know 

43 



How much she was to you and me, 
And how we miss her at our tea ! 

Sweet Dorothy and Margaret, 

Their joyous laugh, I hear it yet. 

They come with footsteps quick and light. 

Just as of yore, in frocks of white. 

We move to make for them a place, 

And stoop to kiss each sunny face. 

But smile, yet wipe away a tear. 

For they've been married many a year. 

And little dream how often we 

Still miss them o'er our cups of tea. 

" Why, Ralph ! " He's surely standing 

there, 
A sunbeam's on his golden hair, 
"You'll have to stoop to pass that door," — 
Our house ne'er seemed so small before. 

44 



o 



Old friend with gen'rous heart and hand, 

And tales to tell of ev'ry land, 

Of prairie fires, brave scouts and guides. 

Of tiger hunts and midnight rides ; 

The better would his story be 

The stronger was his cup of tea. 

We'll hear them all once more, but no ! 
He went to China long ago, 
Drinks better tea than I can brew. 
My love, you might have been there too, 
Been dwelling in that magic land. 
Had countless servants at command, 
Rich silks and ivories, fans of gold, 
More jewels than your hands could hold. 
Perchance you stayed for love of me; 
Ah, take another cup of tea ! 



45 



OCT 1 5 1902 



t*^u2 



